Shouldering my bag, Rebel ignores my protest and wraps his hand around the back of my neck, using it to guide me toward the stairs.
Batting his hand away, I twist free of his hold and leave him standing there. Returning to Brody, I beg him with my eyes to understand.
“You’re going to just run off with that asshole?” Brody questions, his face tinged red from withholding his anger.
“I’m sorry for the way he treated you. He’s just upset with the situation,” I explain. “He’s not too keen on the idea of other men in my life. Just…don’t be mad, okay?”
His eyes narrow slightly. “Are you in trouble? Is this guy going to hurt you?”
“What the fuck did you just say?” Rebel starts back our way, but stops in his tracks when I hold my hand up.
Honestly, I hadn’t thought that’d really work. It feels like I’ve just discovered I have magical powers, like Cesar, The Dog Whisperer. Forcing myself to focus, I address Brody’s concerns. “No, he’d never hurt me. He’s not like that. He was caught off guard when he saw you, but it will be fine.”
“Let’s go, Josephine. The car is waiting.”
I hold up my hand again, impressed that it seems to still be effective. Although, I’m under no illusions that it will last much longer. Rebel is growing impatient.
“At least tell me where he’s taking you in case I have to file a missing person’s.”
I smirk. “We’re going to Maine for a couple days. I should be back by…” I look to Rebel.
“Monday morning. Maybe,” he bites out.
Good lord, he’s such a caveman. If I wasn’t so busy trying to keep the peace, I might find his behavior hot.
Who the hell am I kidding? I think everything about Rebel is hot. Even when he’s being rude, crude, and downright nasty. Being an asshole suits him.
Brody’s reluctance to let me leave pours off him, but he’s not in any position to make me stay and he knows it. Heaving a sigh, he scratches his fingers through his longish brown locks. His arm drops down to slap against his thigh. “Fine, whatever. If you say it’s cool, then cool. Just call me when you get there. Or use Morse code, smoke signals, whatever in case he decides to hold you prisoner or something.” His smile is crooked, one dimple making an appearance.
Throwing my arms around his narrow waist, I give him a quick squeeze and step back, keeping the contact short and sweet. Rebel may not like it, but he’ll have to deal. I’m making compromises for the both of us.
“Thank you,” I say softly. I can feel Brody’s eyes on me as I walk away, feel the sadness in them. I think I might be a terrible person.
I toss an apologetic look over my shoulder as I meet back up with Rebel, hoping Brody isn’t too upset with me. Rebel has a way of getting under a person’s skin, and not always in a good way. As if to drive home his dominance, Rebel replaces his hand at the base of my neck and steers me toward the stairs. Brody looks to be a cross between bewildered and two seconds from going nuclear.
Thankfully, the car is already waiting for us at the curb when we leave the building, just as Rebel promised. Gerardo stands at the rear, holding the door open for us. I climb in first, sliding over to allow Rebel room to get in. When he does, he’s wearing what I call his business face. It’s a perfectly blank mask, impenetrable. I have no clue what is going through his head, but I’m sure whatever it is, none of it is good.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I narrow my eyes at him. “You need to work on your manners.”
“What, I was supposed to be nice to that boy back there?” He scoffs, clearly thinking himself above the act of basic human decency.
“Brody is my friend. He deserves a little damn respect.”
“Brody is a horny little shit with his eyes on the wrong woman. What he deserves is my fist in his face.”
“Jesus, Rebel! What is wrong with you?” I can’t believe he’s being so vicious. After last night and this morning, I was beginning to think he’d turned over a new leaf. How foolish am I?
Rebel’s expression morphs into a mask of outrage. “What’s wrong with me? Let’s start with his assumption that I might hurt you. He’s lucky I didn’t hurt him, starting with his face!”
“Can you blame him? Look at how you’re acting. You’re being a crazy person, and why? Because he’s a man?”
“I told you to make sure no other men touch you,” Rebel snarls.
“Newsflash, Rebel,” I say smartly. “That’s an unrealistic expectation. There are going to be other men in my life and sometimes, they might touch me. Are you going to beat them all up?”
“If I have to.”
My eyes widen. “What if it was your dad? Would you hit him for touching me?”
“Of course not,” he scoffs. “That’s ridiculous.”
“And so are you. You know what your problem is, Rebel? You’re jealous. You’re so worried that another man is going to swoop in and take me out from under you that you’re missing the real issue.”
His dark eyes swoop up to meet mine, and I see the level of his anger. It’s deep and I get the immediate sense that it stems from something beyond me. I probably shouldn’t push, but I venture forward anyway.
“Do you know what happens to a bird if you hold on too tight?” I ask. “You crush its wings.”
“Bird analogies, really?” Rebel’s lip curls with annoyance.
“I happen to like birds,” I snap. “My point is if you spend all your time holding on so tight because you’re worried I’ll fly away, then you’ll never know what will happen if you let go.” He refuses to look at me, so leaving my seat, I close the gap between us and crawl onto his lap.
His entire body stiffens and his jaw flexes as he stares up at me, determined to be angry. I wouldn’t expect anything less. With a tender touch, I brush my fingers through his midnight hair. “I’ll tell you what would happen, Rebel. I’d come back.”
“You say that now,” he says, his voice a low rumble of doubt.
Shaking my head, I lower my forehead to his, close my eyes, and breathe him in. “Did I ever tell you what happened that night at your apartment?”
“Which part? When you accused me of fucking around with my boss?” His temperature rises, radiating through his clothes like a heat wave. “Or when you snuck into my brother’s room and fucked him to get even?”
I cringe. That’s not how it went, and this is not how I meant for that question to go. I decide not to address either of his questions for fear of getting any further off track, and press on. “After Ransom and I… Afterward, I left because I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t where I was supposed to be.”
Silence descends on us and I lift my head, biting my lip. I’m unsure of what Rebel’s reaction will be, but I know if ever there was a time, this is the time to say it. “I already told you I chose you, but that’s not all of it. I realized that night, despite everything, or maybe because of everything, that it was you. I chose you, Rebel, because there’s no other man for me. There never was.”
EIGHTEEN
“Do you hate your brother?” I’m sitting cross-legged in the center of Rebel’s bed, tracking his movements around the room as he gathers what he’ll need for the trip and packs it all into a piece of luggage that’s double the size of mine.
And they say women are the ones with a clothing problem.
“Yes and no,” Rebel replies distractedly. “We have our problems just like any other siblings.”
“But aren’t you supposed to be super close? I thought twins were supposed to be inseparable.”
“Only if they’re conjoined,” he remarks. Dropping a stack of perfectly pressed shirts into the luggage, he stops to look at me. “Ransom and I used to be close as kids, but it’s never been...symbiotic. That shit you see about other twins being able to read each other’s thoughts and living mirrored lives? We’re about as far from that as you can get. We have the same face, similar personalities, even the same taste in women,” he adds with a dark smile, �
�but we’re about as different as two people can get.”
Reminded of my time spent with the two of them, I can see where he might think that. Rebel is much more intense than Ransom. However, Ransom can be just as dominate and controlling as Rebel, just as I’m learning Rebel can be as sweet and gentle as Ransom. They’re more alike than either of them realize.
“If you don’t like each other very much, then why offer for him to live here?”
“I told you, he needed a place to crash, and I had the space.” Rebel is getting annoyed, which is evident by the way he moves a little faster around the room, stuffing his belongings into his bag with a little less care.
“Because you don’t stay here often,” I surmise.
“That and because he maintains it while I’m gone. Maids can be expensive. Family labor comes free.”
I nod in understanding, even though I’ve never once known the luxury of having a maid myself. A question that’s burned in my mind for ages rises to the forefront of my mind and, before I lose my nerve, I ask it. “If you have this place, why bother with the hotels?”
“I told you, I travel a lot for business.” He waves his hand at the open suitcase as evidence, but it’s not what I meant.
“No, I mean, why the hotel rooms. Why meet me there when you had this waiting for you?”
Zipping the case closed, he plants his hands on his hips, highlighting the breadth of his wide shoulders. He changed into a simple pair of khakis and hunter green polo when we first arrived. It reminds me a lot of Ransom, but the look is just as sexy on him. I can’t help feasting on him with my eyes. The man is a hot commodity no matter what he wears.
“A few reasons. The most obvious being that you were a stranger. I don’t bring random women into my home.”
“I get that. What’re the other reasons?”
“Your job is another.”
Scrunching my nose in offence, I say, “You told me that it didn’t matter what I do for a living.”
“It doesn’t. It’s honest, but let’s face it, pussycat, it’s not exactly something you shout from rooftops. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how hard you work to keep it a secret. Even my brother knew nothing about it. I bet you haven’t even told your parents, have you?”
My already declining mood plummets with the mention of them. I choose a flippant response in order to suppress the swell of emotion that threatens to suck me down. “Well, since they’ve been dead for years, I’d say the chances of them finding out are slim.”
“Shit.” Rebel’s expression scrunches up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” The fact that we know next to nothing about each other despite all the time we’ve spent together hangs like a giant red flag waving between us. It’s apparent to me that we can’t continue on this path like this much longer. The time has come to erase all the secrets dividing us. It’s the only way if we expect to make this work.
“So, the hotels?” I ask, needing to get us back on the topic of conversation.
Clearing his throat, Rebel picks up his bag and motions with a tilt of his head for me to follow. “The first time I saw you dance, I had just returned from a trip. I knew Ransom was home and I didn’t feel like company, so I stopped to have a drink. You were...” He pauses, his shoulders rolling forward as he sets his suitcase by the front door and searches for the right words.
“You were memorizing.” Turning to face me, his expression wills me to understand him. “I’m not the kind of guy that picks up women in bars, let alone strip clubs, but there was something about you. I knew I had to have you.”
Removing a set of keys from the charcoal suit coat draped over the back of a side chair, he continues. “I got the hotel rooms because I didn’t want what we did bleeding into my personal life.” Returning to the door he stops, and with his hand on the knob, he casts me a tense look. “It wasn’t because I was embarrassed by you or what you do. I like my privacy. No one save Ransom and my parents have ever been to my home.”
“What about Florence?” The sound of her name coming off my tongue is so bitter it makes me want to spit.
He shakes his head. “Not even her. And yes, I know she has a key, but only because she owns the building. I’ve never personally invited her inside. Not once.”
Well, color me confused. Did she just let herself in on a whim that night then? I find it unlikely. “I’m sure you’ll understand when I tell you I find that hard to believe,” I say, casting him a doubtful look.
Dropping his hold on the knob, Rebel faces me head on. His thick arms fold across his chest and his eyes hold mine, making me feel like a bug under a microscope. “Explain.”
“What is there left to explain?” I ask, my voice rising an octave. “I saw you, Rebel. I saw you and her together and I know it was you because Ransom was there, too. Even you have to admit the evidence is pretty damning.”
“Yes, it is,” he agrees. “But you don’t know the full story. Unfortunately, neither do I. All I can offer you right now is assurances that I’m not the kind of man who cheats. You should also be aware by now that I’m not a man who lies.”
I can’t deny that I’m disappointed that he’s still incapable of providing me the answers I’m looking for, but I acknowledge what he has given me. “You are many things, Rebel, but I have to agree with you there. As much as it pains me to admit it.”
Dropping his arms, a self-satisfying smile appears on his face. “Well, for once you’re not being a total pain in my ass. Quick,” he says, swinging the door open. “Let’s get out of here before the wind shifts.”
My lips twitching at his uncharacteristic joke, I breeze past him. “I hope you bought traveler’s insurance, Mr. Scott.”
***
Boarding the plane was the easy part. I’ve never been on one before. Having read some racy billionaire love stories, I half expected for Rebel to charter us a private plane. Something flashy and high class, with a private suite for us to have wild, crazy sex in.
Instead, he’s booked us first class on a jumbo jet. We have reclining seats and I’ve been given the one by the window. I am beyond thrilled with the accommodations.
Regardless of what Rebel’s salary is, it’s better than anything I could have afforded for myself. It’s an absolute treat...for someone who likes flying.
Despite the excellent service and the view, I am beyond terrified. I’d just as soon not look out the window because I’m pretty sure seeing the world hundreds of feet below me is not going to make me any more comfortable.
“How often do you fly?” I ask Rebel in a poor attempt to relax my racing heart.
He’s leafing through a magazine with a photograph of an ancient artifact on it. “A few times a month.”
Wow. “Do you ever get nervous?”
“What’s there to be nervous about? It’s the safest form of travel.”
He’s answering my questions so matter of fact, I wonder if he’s really even hearing me. It doesn’t matter anyway, I decide. I just know I need to keep talking or something bad is going to happen. Can hearts explode?
“You know that’s probably just a lie travel agencies tell to get more business. I mean, we’re hurdling through the sky in a giant tin can. If we go down, we’re dead.”
His black gaze flips up. He’s amused. “Are you scared, pussycat?”
I scoff. “What’s there to be scared of?” I ask sarcastically. “I mean, what are the chances one of the engines will blow up? And I’m sure they remembered to refuel before takeoff.” But what if they didn’t? Blood pounds in my ears and my breathing grows labored. How the hell long is this flight, and is it too late to get off? We’re soaring several thousand feet in the air, but I’m sure someone on board has a parachute in their carry-on.
“You won’t need a parachute,” Rebel assures me, and I realize that I’ve just said all of that out loud. Reaching into my lap, he gathers my hand in his. “If the plane crashes, I’m sure they’ll have enough safety vests to go around
. If not, I don’t mind sharing.”
My eyes shoot open wide. “I forgot about drowning.”
He chuckles. I’m so glad he finds my terror entertaining. “We’re not flying over any bodies of water, and we’re not going to crash. Everything is going to be fine.”
Lifting his hand, he flags a stewardess down. “Can you bring us a couple glasses of something strong? My girlfriend’s nerves are shot.”
My jaw drops. Stunned by the label he’s given me, I almost miss the woman asking me if this is my first time flying. Too worked up to find my voice, I nod.
Once we’re alone again, Rebel catches the look on my face and says, “What?”
“Your girlfriend?”
“Don’t get too excited,” he says briskly, turning the page on his magazine over. “It’s just a label that makes for a smoother explanation.”
My expression falls and I slide my hand out from under his. A label? From fuck buddy to “label.” Not exactly an upgrade.
The stewardess is back in minutes, handing us a glass each of amber liquid. I’m impressed that she was able to peg Rebel so well. It’s exactly what he would have ordered. As for me, I’m more of a beer girl. I don’t attempt to hide my disappointment, though whether it’s due to the drink or Rebel’s comment, I don’t know.
“Drink. It will help you relax,” Rebel says gruffly. Placing two fingers on the bottom of my glass, he pushes it toward me. Holding his gaze, I down the scotch, hating the smooth burn that travels down my throat and into my chest.
With an approving smile, he returns to his magazine and sips at his own drink. Within minutes, I feel the weight of the alcohol spread to my limbs. Taking a risk, I rest my head lightly on Rebel’s shoulder. When he doesn’t reprimand or reject my advance, I increase the load until my head is fully supported. I may not like him much right now, but he makes a good pillow.
Closing my eyes, I consider for the hundredth time the wisdom of my decision to take this trip with him. Rebel and I are not a match made in heaven. He’s brash and condescending on a good day, and I’m...well, me. I’m a “label.” To be with him, it’s clear that I’m going to be giving up a lot of myself. Example number one: this trip.
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